


Complicated

by heeroluva



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Banter, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Partial amnesia, Possession, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-23 05:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20003173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: He doesn’t remember how he escaped his captors, doesn’t know how long they’d held him, doesn’t know how many days and nights he walks through the desert unstopping.





	Complicated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wednesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/gifts).



He doesn’t remember how he escaped his captors, doesn’t know how long they’d held him, doesn’t know how many days and nights he walks through the desert unstopping. He burns beneath the unforgiving sun, his naked body going red and blistering. His feet are shredded by sand, from slipping down the dunes, but he forces himself forward through the agony, following the pull that drives him to continue, certain that if he stops, he’ll never rise again.

Thirst becomes his constant companion, overriding even his pain, his mouth parched, his eyes gritty, and he doesn’t understand how he’s able to continue on, how he hasn’t expired. A part of him knows that men can’t last that long without water, especially not in these conditions, and an even smaller part of him questions what he is if not a man?

Days turn into weeks, his blistered skin sloughing off to reveal strange patches of iridescent blue-green scales with golden sparkles that slowly begin to cover his entire body. He stumbles and collapses to his hands and knees when sharp spikes of white-hot pain suddenly spark from each finger and toe. He screams in agony as his fingernails unexpectedly split open and fall away, blood oozing as thick black claws push their way through his flesh.

The agony fades to an ache, and he forces himself back to his feet, the need to move growing stronger. The sun is setting when he stumbles again, crying out as his jaw shifts and pops, blood filling his mouth. The pressure grows and grows, and desperately he begins to pull at his teeth, stabbing himself with his unfamiliar claws as he yanks the surprisingly loose teeth free. He does this again and again, teeth falling forgotten to be lost amid the sand, blood dripping from his mouth as new teeth rise, his mouth and face stretching strangely to make room for them.

He shreds his fingers on their sharpness as he examines them curiously before he moves forward again. There’s excitement in the pull now, more than desperation, and he knows that he’s almost there. It’s two days later that the sand abruptly gives way beneath his feet, and he finds himself falling, his now hardened scales protecting him from the worst of the damage as the rush of sand carries him deeper into an old cave system until he’s finally comes to an abrupt stop with a groan.

It takes a moment, but to his surprise his eyes adjust to the total darkness until he can see nearly as well as though the sun is bright overhead. His heart races as he takes in the sight of her, the one who’s been calling him. She’s huge. No, massive, much larger than any dragon he’s ever seen before, and he lets out an angry snarl, a strange sound he’s not certain he’s ever produced before, when he sees the chains that bind her.

Her warning to stay away, to not touch is unheeded, and he screams in agony as electricity flows through him, and he flies back and impacts the cavern fall hard enough that a shower of rocks rain down around him as he groans. Her mind surrounds him then, old, truly ancient in a way that he can’t hope to comprehend, a balm across the jagged edges of his mind, pulling the scattered pieces back together. His screams turn from that of an animal to a man, and when she pulls away, one great tear falls from her eye to form a large puddle.

Wasting no time, he surges forward, gulping it down until the thirst fades away, until his belly bulges slightly from it. His reflecting is a shock, barely recognizable, and great horns rise from his head much like a qunari. The exhaustion hits him suddenly, and he might have collapsed face first into the water and drowned had the dragon not caught him and pulled him protectively forward, cradling him close against her side.

He doesn’t know how much time passes like that, her dripping water into his mouth from the tip of one massive claw before he sleeps once more. He’s certain that he’s never felt peace like this before.

The day he awakes, feeling well rested, he rises on shaky feet, and lets himself really look around the cavern they’re in for the first time. He cries, tears coming to him for the first time since his journey started, when he sees the remnants of eggs shells everywhere. The ground not covered in rocks, but worn down shards of shell. Reaching down, he begins to dig attempting to find the flood, but when he makes it several feet, feeling her anguish rising, he forces himself to stop, turns his attention elsewhere.

The walls of the room are strangely smooth and shiny, and his heart breaks when he realizes that it’s been caused by her fire, her attempts to free herself, break her chains. How long had she been here? What kind of monsters would do such a thing?

He shrugs off her attempt to calm him, rounding on her, and freezes, eyes widening in horror. She’s much diminished from the first time he’d set eyes on her. She stands on shaky legs, showing just how very thin she’s become in the short time he’s been with her, clearly sacrificing herself so that he might live. His eyes are drawn beneath her to the strange mirror that had been hidden under her bulk. It was an Eluvian, some part of his mind supplies.

Despite her long captivity, she cares not for revenge. She’s just happy to finally not be alone. Tears stream down his face as he watches her body dissolve before his eyes, a glowing ball condensing before it slams into him, stealing his breath as he shares her soul. His body shifts, scales fading away to reveal golden human skin, though his eyes remain slitted, his teeth sharp, fingers and toes still tipped with claws as long spiral horns curl above his head.

The Eluvian comes alive, and with the strangely familiar imagine of a tall elf at the forefront of his mind, knowing what he must do, Cullen walks through the Eluvian.

Cullen yelps as he finds himself falling, grunting when he lands on the snow-packed ground. Despite his nudity, the cold doesn’t affect him as it once did. Taking stock of his position, he groans seeing naught but white in all directions. Reaching within, she urges him to trust his instincts, and Cullen closes his eyes, breathing in deeply as he lets his mind reach out, searching, searching, there!

His head snaps to the east, and Cullen begins to walk towards the one that is familiar to them both. It’s a slow process, the flat expanse of snow-covered plains quickly giving way to steep rocky terrain. Standing at the top of the last peak, his goal in sight in the valley below, Cullen doesn’t question the urge to jump, his descent quickly halted by the massive wings that emerge from his back, each several times longer than he is tall.

Cullen’s approach is far from stealthy and as he grows closer, he sees the flurry of activity on the ground below. And when the first attack comes, he shrugs off the fire as though it’s nothing. Still he rolls and dodges, but he can’t avoid them all. The ice stings a bit, but it’s the electricity that sees him plummeting, groaning as he hits the ground hard.

Unfamiliar faces surround him, and Cullen opens his mouth in a snarl, an unfamiliar pressure rising in his chest, rising, rising.

“Enough!” a commanding voice calls out.

The crowd of elves split suddenly, and a picture of wild hair is superimposed on the bald elf that appears before him. He knows this elf. Solas, the name comes to him. 

“Cullen?” Solas asks, clearly uncertain as he takes in Cullen’s much changed form.

Cullen lets his lips curl, exposing sharp fangs. His voice is rough, rumbling, strange in his ears as he says, “Yes,” offering no more explanation.

“Perhaps it would be best if we took this somewhere a bit more private? If you would be so kind as to follow me.”

Cullen follows, wondering at this trust, curious and shocked eyes following in their wake as Solas leads them to what is clearly his study. He feels foolish for it, but as soon as the door closes behind them a part of him relaxes. There are still huge chunks of his memory missing, but Solas’ face is familiar. And that familiarity is a comfort.

There’s a huge fire roaring on the hearth, and Cullen barely stops the urge to sit within it, taking a seat beside it instead, groaning as it warms him.

Solas watches him, his gaze curious, considering, calculating, but not cruel as he takes in Cullen’s nudity, the obvious changes. “Well, I must say that this is a surprise. You’ve changed.”

Cullen barks out a laugh, the sounds startling him, not remembering the last time he’s made such a sound. It must have been a lifetime ago. He quickly sobers though. He can’t help the admission that escapes his lips, the all but pleading tone. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“Perhaps if you start at the beginning?”

So Cullen does, starting with his captors, men and women who wore odd hooded robes and spoke in a language he’d never heard before, how they fed him strange meat and only gave him a bitter red fluid to drink, how one day he fell asleep only to awake in the desert covered in blood, not remembering how he arrived there. He recounts his travel through the desert, the impossible days and weeks and how he’d begun to change.

“Show me,” Solas breathes.

Cullen huffs, but does as he’s told, scales rippling along his skin as the world grows sharper. His nostrils flair as he breathes deeply taking in Solas’ scent, committing it to memory.

“Fascinating,” Solas says softly, as he reaches out, pausing at the last second. “May I?”

Cullen nods and holds his breath as Solas’ fingers slides against his arm. His mind explodes with sensory input, and he jerks away, startled. Solas doesn’t appear angered though, and steps back, taking a seat in the chair beside the fire. Cullen continues on, telling him about the dragon, and Solas goes rigid, standing abruptly.

“Show her to me!” Solas demands.

Even had Cullen wished to deny Solas, she was having none of it, surging forward, a glowing sphere appearing between them. He’s unable to hold back the snarl when Solas reaches out, caressing her, the touch drawing a shiver from Cullen as though it’s his own soul being so gently petted.

“Nalta,” Solas whispers in disbelief, tears falling from his eyes as her glow increases to encompass them both. “She was ancient even in my youth. I tended to her eggs for a time. When my rebellion began, I’d thought that secret of my past long buried, that none would dare cross one such as her, but I was wrong. Perhaps one day I will be worthy of her forgiveness.”

“She never blamed you.”

Solas starts, almost as though he’d forgotten Cullen was there with them. “Be that as it may, I know the fault is none other than my own.”

“The fault lies with the ones who chained her and locked her away. If not her, it would have been another, and at least she survived.”

“Tell me what you found with her?” Solas snarls. Cullen can’t stop the sorrow that crosses his face and Solas sneers. “As I thought. A quick death would have been better than an eternity locked in a tomb.”

Cullen’s fist catches Solas’ face before he realizes he’s moving, his nose crunching beneath Cullen’s knuckles, blood spurting from it and his cheek where one of Cullen’s claws catches him as he sprawls on the floor, shocked by the sudden turn of events. “Don’t you dare,” Cullen growls as he stalks forward, his voice sounding bestial and feral even to his own ears. “If she’d wanted death, she could have sought it out an eternity ago, but she never gave up the hope that one day she’d be able to bask in the sun again, that one day she might see those she cared for again, see _you_ again.”

When Cullen offers his hand, Solas looks at it for a long moment before he accepts it with shaking fingers.

Solas can’t meet Cullen’s eyes as he says, “I am sorry. That was unworthy of me. Thank you for finding her, and letting me see her once more.”

“It is I that should be thanking her. I think it’s her influence that saved me from my captors, her voice in my ear whispering encouragement when I wanted to do nothing more than curl up and die. I owe her my life.” The glow abruptly darts into his chest again, and Cullen gasps and stumbles, Solas’ hands suddenly on him, holding him steady. “She gave so much of herself so that I might continue to live, and I can feel her fading still as she holds me together. My mind is a jumble, my memories of before like shattered glass, the pieces only occasionally coming together. Will you help me?”

Solas is dabbing at his nose with a cloth, wincing at the touch. “For all my magical knowledge, to my frustration the healing arts are not one I was ever able to master. The mind is even more complicated than the body, and I would hesitate to enter yours lest I do more damage. In all my years, I’ve never seen the likes of what’s been done to you, but then I am not all-knowing. You are welcome to stay for as long as you need. Anything that you require, you need but ask; I will do my best to see that it is provided.”

Feeling his energy suddenly waning, Cullen says wryly, “A bed would be nice.”

“Of course, if you would—” Solas breaks off abruptly as Cullen all but collapses against his chest, staggering slightly at the weight of him.

Cullen tries to get his feet to cooperate, but they seem unwilling, and they slowly stumble through a doorway and towards a bed. Cullen falls upon it with a sigh, sinking into the softness as he drifts into sleep, wondering for a moment why Solas’ scent was so strong here.

Cullen’s dreams are strange, shifting and chaotic, but he’s not scared, and when he awakes he knows with certainty that this was the best night’s sleep he’d had in a very long time. He stretches languidly, and realizes abruptly that he’s not alone in bed. He curiously examines the sleeping elf that sits cross-legged at his feet.

Solas’ features are shape, though not unattractive, and Cullen finds himself wanting to reach out, to see if his head is as smooth as it looks, if the rumors he’d heard of the sensitivity of elf ears is true. 

There’s a part of Cullen that says that he shouldn’t trust Solas, that he’ll betray him, but he ignores it because what other choice does he have? Solas’ eyes slowly open, and he gives Cullen a small unguarded smile before he rises. “I will have food and clothes brought to you. Is there anything else you currently require?”

Cullen doesn’t say, ‘you’, but it’s a close thing, having no wish to be alone. “A bath would be wonderful, and access to your library later?”

“Certainly, after you’ve broken your fast, I’ll see that they’re provided.”

Cullen is disappointed when he leaves, but it’s not long before there’s a knock on the door. Two elves enter, one carrying a heavy tray full of food, the other a large pile of garments. Neither of them speak, their gazes suspicious.

Despite the variety of offerings, fruits and cheeses and bread, even a carafe of wine, Cullen wants none of it. Even the clothing, the thought of wearing it fills him with distaste. He knows once that he’d have been shamed by his nudity, but now he can think of nothing more natural. The urge to move is suddenly all encompassing, and before he realizes what he’s doing the window is flung up, his wings busting from his back as he jumps.

It’s not long before he’s upon a herd of halla, the majestic creatures scattering at the sight of him. That is all but one. Cullen lands carefully before her, her gate shuffling and awkward as she takes a few clearly painful steps. The other halla have paused, visible in the distance, watching curiously. She’s trembling with fear as Cullen moves closer, hand raised carefully, when she offers her neck to him.

The unexpected gesture brings tears to his eyes. He knows abruptly that she’s old and lame, surviving only because there are no predators here. Cullen carefully runs the back of his hand down her neck. “Thank you, beautiful, but there is no need. You and your kind are safe here.”

There’s a startling intelligence in her eyes as she examines him before she presses her face into his chest, and with a laugh, Cullen gives her the scratches she requests, careful not to hurt her with his claws. It’s not long before he finds himself surrounded on all sides by the majestic creatures, all curiously nosing at him, clearly never having seen or smelt something quite like him.

It’s there basking in the sun, surrounded by halla that Solas finds him hours later. “I’d worried that you’d run off. It’s not usual for the halla to take to an outsider so,” he says, his voice almost accusatory, any evidence of his broken nose already gone, likely the work of a healing potion unless he’d found one of the exceedingly rare spirit healers. 

“And go where?” Cullen snaps, the words harsher than he means as a face suddenly flashes before his eyes, a blonde man with stubble. He remembers a tower of horror, a city that burned, and a grand keep hidden in the mountains, but he doesn’t remember the people there, and the thought of returning to any of them turn his stomach.

“Peace,” Solas says, raising his hand. “Your presence here has rattled me. It was just over a year ago that rumors of your disappearance reached me. I never expected to see you again, and certainly not so changed.”

“Is it so strange?” Cullen asks curiously as he examines his claws, surprised when they suddenly retracted. He tests it again and again, delighted at the discovery.

Solas watches him bemused before he finally says. “It’s certainly startling at first, but not so very strange, no.”

Cullen gets the feel that there is more that Solas wants to say, but doesn’t.

“Was the food not to your liking?”

Cullen shrugs, embarrassed, knowing that once he’d never left the table without clearing his plate. “I’d prefer meat.” Solas’ eyes slide across the halla surrounding them, a calf now trying to suckle at Cullen’s fingers. “Not halla!” Cullen hastily adds.

“Certainly not,” Solas agree. “We should head back.”

Cullen is loathed to leave the comforting presence of the halla, their warmth a balm on his mind, but he knows he must and that they’ll be close by if he wishes to seek them out again. Pushing himself to his feet, Cullen studies Solas for a moment before he asks, “Would you like to fly?”

A slow smile crosses Solas face. “I’d be delighted.”

Solas is not a small elf by any means, but finally Cullen holds him against his chest, one arm under his knees, one supporting his shoulders as Solas wraps his arms around Cullen’s neck. It takes considerable more effort to take to the air without the help of a height to jump from, and his wings beat furiously before they finally rise.

Solas makes a delighted sound, and Cullen can’t help but watch him, abruptly wanting nothing more than to see him happy. They return to what Cullen belated realizes is Solas’ bedroom, and Cullen finds himself loathe to release him.

“That was delightful. Thank you,” Solas says, his face close to Cullen’s.

Cullen all but drops him, and sputters out an awkward, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Solas’ hand covers his mouth, stopping the flow of words, and Cullen’s eyes snap to his amused face. “No harm done.” He glances at the pile of untouched clothes on the bed. “Were the garments not to your liking either?”

A flush darkens Cullen’s skin. “I’m sure they’re very fine, but I find the thought of wearing them distasteful.”

“Unfortunately life if full of many distasteful things. I must insist that you at least wear pants when out of these rooms.”

“But not within in them?” Cullen snarks back before he can stop himself.

“I wish for you to be comfortable.”

“These are your rooms,” Cullen says.

“Yes,” Solas replies simply.

“Why?” There are so many questions in that one word.

Solas is silent for a long time, moving to the window to stare at the sky. Finally he says, “You are a reminder. I take comfort in your presence.”

“In Nalta’s presence, you mean.”

“Yes and no. It is pleasing to have her close once more, but it’s not the same. She is a reminder of my failure, and my weakness.”

Cullen doesn’t know what makes him do it, but he can’t stop the urge to wrap his arms around Solas, pressing up against his back as he curls his arms around his front. Nalta pushes to the forefront of his mind, but he gently denies her. Not now. Solas is stiff in his arms at first before he lets out a sigh and relaxes into his embrace, muscles loosening as he leans back against Cullen. “You said it yourself that you are not all-knowing. You are no god.”

Solas turns in Cullen’s embrace, his eyes bright. “You are far too kind and one of few who believe such. I can see it in your eyes that you do not even remember.”

“That you wish to tear down the Veil? Aye, I remember.”

Solas’ eyes goes carefully blank, and he attempts to pull away, but Cullen holds him tight.

“It’s one of the few things I remembered clearly.”

“And yet you still came.”

“And yet I still came,” Cullen agrees. “What other choice did I have? Who else could I have possibility sought for help?”

Solas finally succeeds in wrenching himself from Cullen’s arms. “Anyone but me!”

“Who then? The Inquisition? You know it was disbanded. The Inquisitor? I had no way of finding him. The Church or the Circle? They’d have seen me as a demon. Tevinter? At best, I’d have been locked away, never to see the light of day again. So tell me, who?!”

“You are a complication.”

“I thought I was a comfort,” Cullen says with a smirk.

“A comforting complication.” Solas glances down where Cullen takes his hands.

Cullen watches him intently as he trails his fingers up Solas’ arm, noting the way he shivers, the way his eyes flutter shut when Cullen cups his cheek, the way he sighs at the touch.

“You are a distraction.”

Cullen laughs softly. “Seems I’m complicated then.”

“Exceedingly so,” Solas agrees. He opens his eyes once more, meeting Cullen’s gaze. “What do you want?”

“Now? I would very much like to kiss you.” Cullen leans down slowly, giving Solas the chance to pull back.

Solas’ lips brush Cullen’s as he speaks. “And in the future?”

“I want answers, but more than that I want a world not ruled by fear.” Cullen presses their mouths together, and Solas surges against him, sliding his fingers through Cullen’s hair as he deepens the kiss. A groan is wrenched from him when Solas finds the unexpectedly sensitive skin at the base of Cullen’s horns. Cullen can’t remember the last person he’d kissed, but he’s certain it hadn’t been anything like this, hadn’t felt so good.

Cullen is also certain the person hadn’t had the amount of experience that he’s certain Solas has. Even his sharp teeth don’t seem to pose a problem for Solas, and he can’t help but laugh, breaking the kiss, drawing an unhappy sound from Solas.

“I fail to see what’s so funny.”

“You’re good at this,” Cullen says as he brushes his mouth against Solas’ again. He trails kisses across his jaw, to his ear, nipping at his lobe before he whispers, “I’ll save you.”

Solas jerks back as though burned, and gives him a sad smile. “You can try.” Without another word he turns and leaves.

Cullen hates that he’s ruined the mood, but he knows it had to be done. He will have no falsehoods between them. Cullen had been given a second chance, and it took him a long time to truly appreciate it. He’ll be the last person to deny Solas his.

The growling of his stomach is unexpected, the sudden gnawing hunger nearly all-consuming, and it’s only Nalta’s presence that prevents him from throwing himself out the window and seeking the nearest source of meat. His fingers tremble as he pulls on the pants as Solas has ordered. First he’ll find dinner, then he’ll save the world.


End file.
